May the Circle Be Unbroken
by Super-Sueage
Summary: Once again, Dean and Sam find themselves embroiled in a spirit's quest for vengence. College coeds, zombies and incompetent cops plague their efforts and only coffee can help them save a campus from a bloody hell.
1. Chapter 1

_Authors' (Yes- plural) Note: We don't own anything from Supernatural. Bummer. We'd like to note that- timeline-wise- this story takes place between Provenance and Dead Man's Blood. _

The night closed velvet black around the Impala, heavy clouds blocking any moonlight. They were far from any town, and the trees crowded around the winding stretch of deserted highway. Ever since they'd past Big Lake on their way northwest, traffic had died off . The only light came from the soft glow of the dashboard. Dean kept his eyes on the road while Sam tried to sleep in that awkward half-leaning, half-sitting position that people always assumed for napping in cars.

The mellow strains of Led Zeppelin's "That's the Way" played low on the speakers, and Dean nodded along until he was in danger of nodding off. He shook himself and hit the fast-forward on the tape deck and held it in until he knew he'd hit something livelier. Even so, he found himself yawning into his hand.

It wasn't surprising that he was tired. Three days in the car with only enough stops to sleep and gas up had left them both exhausted. He kicked himself for not stopping at the last town that'd been large enough to have a hotel. Now it seemed like they'd be driving all night until they hit civilization again. Perfect. A dose of road-fatigue was just what he and Sam needed before they faced off against the next big bad bogeyman.

He reached over and slapped Sam roughly on the shoulder. His brother jerked and blinked owlishly in the dim light

"Huh? Are we there yet?" he asked.

"Are we there yet? Are you three?" Dean smirked.

"What'd you wake me up for?" Sam grumbled and scrubbed his face with one hand.

"Well, seeing as how we don't even a there to be," Dean began, "I figured you should play navigator and check the map. I'm tired of driving, and you definitely need some shut eye. What's the next biggest town?"

Sam sighed and shuffled through the stack of newspapers and fast-food wrappers on the car floor in search of the Minnesota road map. He unfolded it and dug out a penlight to read by. Dean winced at the sudden brightness, but kept his eyes on the road.

"We're on Highway Ten?"

Dean grunted an affirmative.

"What was the last town we passed?"

"Big Lake, about twenty minutes ago."  
"Well, looks like we'll pass through Clear Water, but it's a small town. Right on the other side of that is Saint Cloud," Sam said and switched off the light. 

"Saint Cloud?" Dean repeated skeptically. "What the fuck kind of saint is that?"

"Does it matter? Looks like it's a pretty decent size. We'll find a motel no problem."

"Saint Cloud." Dean shook his head. "Fuckin' Minnesota."

"You're not still bitter about those homicidal hicks, are you?" Sam asked, teeth flashing in a not-so-humorous grin.

Dean's gaze flicked over to his brother, then back to the road. "Yup."

Sam snorted and lapsed into silence. The next ten minutes were quiet, only broken by the music and the rhythm of the road. When the exit came up, Dean eased the Impala onto the off ramp. Sam kept an eye out for a motel of some sort.

"Hey, over there," he said, pointing at a large, generic sign that proclaimed 'MOTEL.'

"Well, that's convenient," Dean remarked.

"A little too convenient," Sam added.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You just couldn't resist."

As they drew nearer, though, they reconsidered. No fewer than four cop cars were pulled into the parking lot, lights flashing. Through the doors of the car, they heard voices shouting.

"Drop your weapons!"

"Get down on the ground!"

"Whatevah!"

"He ain't my baby's daddy!"

Sam and Dean exchanged a long-suffering look.

"So, coffee?" Dean suggested.

They ended up down the road in the midst of what was apparently the downtown area. Thirsty Thursday was in full swing, and the place was crawling with the raucous college crowd. Sam sipped at his coffee and stared out the window at the inebriated hordes weaving across the busy road. It made him wistful. Under a year ago, he might have been part of this, maybe not drunk but among friends, and nothing more to worry about than a paper due, or a test next week. Jess would be hanging on his arm, tugging him along and giggling.

His heart panged, and he looked down into his cup. The pain was still strong, but not as sharp as it once had been. Instead of feeling gutted by the sensation of loss, he merely felt nauseous and weary. Looking for distraction, he glanced up at Dean, who was shamelessly checking out the skimpily dressed bimbos streaming through the door. Sam rolled his eyes. Dean caught the gesture and returned it with a 'what?' look.

"You're completely hopeless, you know," Sam said.

"Come on. What's the point of coming to Perkins if you can't even look at the menu?" Dean replied, leaning to get a better look at some chick's ass.

"That," Sam said, waving a hand, "is not on the menu."

"Aw, man. Learn to live a little."

Sam glared and it was Dean's turn to roll his eyes. He picked up the menu in front of him and flipped through it sullenly. As their conversation lulled, the hubbub of the restaurant flowed around them. Snatches of other conversations floated to him, most of them completely vapid.

"So Justin told her to fuck off, man, and she was pissed-"

"And I was like, whatever, get off me!"

"-and then I put an arrow straight through that demon's heart."

Wait. What?

Sam glanced around, suddenly alert. The comment had come from a table across the aisle, where three sketchy looking people huddled over coffee and an overflowing ashtray. The only girl in the group leaned back in her chair and stared at the clock, seemingly bored with the conversation between the two gothed out guys.

"Did you make sure it was dead?" the scrawny, pock-marked kid asked. His stringy hair hung over his face as he leaned in over the table towards the other guy. His expression was intense to the point of being comical and Sam had to resist the urge to burst out laughing.

The shorter, furrier guy nodded solemnly. "Put another three shots into it. That fucker was not getting up again."  
"And Heather don't have any problems since," the girl added, her voice annoyingly nasal.

"You did well, my young Malachai," the scrawny guy said. "You have the true Warrior's spirit."

By this time, Dean had noticed where Sam's attention had wandered and he turned to glance skeptically over his shoulder. When he took in the appearance of the speakers, he sank lower in his seat and snickered. Sam grinned and propped his head up on his fist. These guys had to be joking. They looked more like role-players than any kind of hunter. All they needed was some twenty sided dice to complete the look.

"Oh, look!" the girl said suddenly, and started waving to someone at the door. "They're here. Hey! Over here!"

Several loud giggles and assorted shrieky sounds erupted from the group of girls striding over to the table without waiting for a host. One was dark-haired and dressed in a way that screamed 'mystique,' all black velvet, stark white skin and silver jewelry. Her shrill giggles pierced Sam's ears and made Dean wince. But Dean's wince morphed into a devious grin as he leered at the tallest girl.

Her blonde hair was pulled back into a severe business-like bun that contrasted drastically with her well-worn jeans and faded blue hoodie. She had icy blue eyes, pale skin that boasted of Nordic heritage and a wide toothy grin that was just this side of intimidating. Sam took one look at her and thought, "Valkyrie." Dean took one look at her and... well, Sam didn't want to know what he thought.

The last girl was giggling hysterically and looked like the only one of her friends that knew what sunshine looked like. She was dressed in bright yellow skirt and a green sweater that complimented the emerald green streaks in her strawberry blonde hair. The three of them pulled a table over to their friends' table like they owned the place as a server brought over three drinks. Sam figured they were regular customers by their behavior and the odd drinks that were placed in front of them.

"Tepid tea with honey and lemon, Sprite with a shot of rootbeer, and a Cherry Coke, no ice." The server shook his head at them as they choked back their laughter, "Do you want food now or later when the rest show up?"

"Uh, may as well wait for the others," the tall girl said firmly. "Thanks, Ewok."

The server mock-curtseyed with his apron and lisped, "Oh, honey, it's no problem."

When he'd gone, the nasally girl spoke up. "So, how did the séance go?"

"It was a complete bust," the girl with the streaks said, drooping with disappointment. "The spirits didn't even make the candles flicker."  
"Well," began the 'mystique' girl in a superior tone, "No offense, Iris, but your third eye isn't really tuned in, you know? I sensed a lot of energy around us. The girl was trying to talk to us, but that guy was trying to keep her from reaching us."

Iris raised an eyebrow and fished a cherry out of her soda instead of replying. The tall girl gave her a sympathetic look.

"Where are Danielle and Adrianna?" asked the furry 'hunter.'

"Adrianna lost her pentacle and they both stayed to look for it," the tall girl explained.

The furry guy looked disappointed. The pock-marked guy smirked at him, which earned him a glare and a shot to the ribs by the nasally chick's elbow. Dean snickered a little at the exchange as Sam contemplated the ramifications of what this odd group was discussing. Whether these people were serious or insane, Sam was beginning to feel as though he and Dean were about to dive right in to yet another hunt.

Mystique girl shuddered exaggeratedly. "I would just leave it there, if I were her. The stone circle is full of baaad mojo."

Dean and Sam, having listened to this exchange with bemusement and some derision, exchanged a look across their table. When one had been on as many hunts as they had, one got to read the warning signs. A bunch of silly wannabe psychics doing séances in symbolic landmarks could be just mindless thrill-seeking with no fear of consequences, but it could also be the start of a bloody killing-spree for a vengeful spirit. In situations such as these, it was better to make sure. Sam nodded slightly at Dean's questioning look.

The older Winchester turned in his seat, pasting his most charming, casual smile on his face.

"Sorry to break in," he said loudly enough to get noticed over the rowdy group's chatter. They turned to look at him. "Couldn't help but overhear. So, you all are into that witchcraft stuff, huh?"

"Pssht," Iris said as her lips puckered into a scowl. 

The mysterious girl flipped her brownish black hair over her shoulder and glowered at Dean and Sam. In a voice oozing with scorn, she said, "It's only our religion."

The tall girl leaned forward conspiratorially, her eyes twinkling with mischief and favored Dean with a wry smirk. "So, are you guys into all that Christian stuff?"

Dean blinked, taken aback. As much fun as it was to watch his brother get berated, Sam had to stifle a snicker. They needed some more information to figure out if this was going to be a problem that they would need to handle and, apparently, it was going to take a bit more tact then Dean was capable of having. Once again, Sam was going to have to do some damage control before they lost any chance of finding out some information.

"Sorry, he's not exactly politically correct," Sam said. "We didn't mean to offend you. We're just curious, is all."

"Curious," the mysterious girl echoed, disdainful. The tall girl shot her a quelling look and darker haired girl slunk back in the seat, sulking at the unspoken rebuke.

"What part are you curious about?" asked Iris, expression tolerant and open. The scowl was gone from her face and was replaced by a pleasant little smile that seemed to encourage questions. Sam was intrigued by the groups' reaction. With the exception of Iris and the tall girl, they were sullen and seemed unwilling to talk to the Winchesters and even the tall girl was wary. It was odd that only Iris would answer their questions because most of the time, the people that Sam and Dean met were more than willing to share all kinds of information with them. 

"Well, for one," Dean said, recovering his smile. "What should we call you pretty ladies?"

Introductions were made for all at this point. Mystique girl was predictably called Morgan, the tall girl was Bethany, Iris' name they already knew. The furry guy and the pock-marked guy were Harry and Dwayne respectively, and finally the nasal girl identified herself as Bernice. By the time Sam and Dean introduced themselves, the group's reaction to them had thawed a bit.

"Now that that's out of the way," Sam said, "What were you talking about earlier? Some kind of séance or something?"

"Yeah, down on campus," Iris replied with a vague gesture that somehow managed not to communicate any direction at all. "There are these old closed-off stairs that go down right to the Mississippi River, and it's really weird down there."

"Not that all of campus isn't haunted anyway," Bernice put in, grinning.

"Yeah, well, the stone circle is different," Morgan said firmly.

"Stone circle?" Dean asked, laying confusion on thickly. Sam stomped on his foot under the table. Dean kicked him right back, expression not slipping one bit.

"At the bottom of the stairs there's this ring of granite chunks," Bethany said with a shrug. "It's got some local legends attached to it. No one knows if it's true or not, but creepy shit happens down there."

"What's the legend? I love ghost stories," Dean drawled with a smile designed to dazzle.

Bethany looked appropriately dazzled momentarily, but rallied enough to return it with a sharp grin of her own. "I don't do details. Iris, why don't you tell it?"

"What, me?" Iris asked, flushing as everyone turned to look at her.

"Yeah," Bernice seconded. "I mean, you're the one that's gonna be a writer."

"Um, yeah, but -"

"The story goes," Morgan interrupted, loud and pretentious, "that around the turn of the Twentieth Century, there was a cult in town that believed you could gain eternal life if you sacrificed someone who was a descendent of Jesus Christ. The man who ran the cult found a woman whom he believed to be one, and he performed a ritual with her in that circle that involved raping her before he killed her.

"Her soul, however, lashed out and killed him as well. Now they're both trapped in that circle, and the woman hates men with a passion after what happened to her, and the man hates women just as much. Anyone who goes near the stone circle has to be one their guard," she concluded.

It was rather amazing, Sam thought, that Morgan seemed completely oblivious to the displeased and irritated glances her friends were giving her. He glanced over to Iris to see how she took it. The girl's expression was a cross between relieved and hurt until she noticed him looking at her. She twitched the corner of her mouth upwards and shrugged one shoulder.

Dean gave a low whistle. "That is some creepy shit," he paused dramatically before continuing, "So what were you doing at this stone circle thing if it's so weird down there?"

Sam glared at his brother for a moment before turning his attention back to Morgan. She primped a bit before speaking again and Sam couldn't help but feel a bit of irritation towards her and Dean. Dean's problem was that he was socially retarded. He couldn't ask for a simple piece of information without hamming it up. Morgan, on the other hand, seemed to be so full of herself and didn't realize that it wasn't deserved. Sam couldn't place it why he thought this about a person he had just met but there was just something about her that invited scorn and derision.

"We were trying to get in contact with the girl's spirit and set her free from her bondage to that place," Morgan replied with a thick air of mysticism. Sam could tell Dean was just narrowly resisting another eye-roll.

"Did it work?" Sam asked.

Bethany grinned mischievously, "Nope- maybe she likes the bondage."

"A girl after my own heart," Dean added with an insinuating smirk in Bethany's direction.

"Oh, no, don't git 'er started," Bernice broke in, snickering. Dean's eyebrows rose and Bethany winked. Bernice gave an exaggerated sigh and looked upwards as though there was something to save her on the ceiling.

Before the conversation could erode further, a cellphone went off. The furry guy, Harry, dug in his pockets.

"Paco's Taco Shack," he greeted into his phone as everyone else politely quieted down. "What? Hey, calm down, Danni - what?"

High-pitched, hysterical chatter floated in the silence, which had gone oddly tense. Dean and Sam exchanged glances. Had something gone wrong?

"Wait, Danni - What? What do you mean, Adrianna's dead?"

Guess so.

Bethany commandeered the phone as the rest of the group paled and looked at each other, eyes wide with fear and concern. "Dannielle, where are you?"

There was some more shrieky noises from the phone before Bethany continued.

"Dannielle, I need to you to do a few things for me, okay? I need you to calm down and climb back up the stairs. Then walk over to the emergency blue phone. Call campus security. You can freak out on them as much as you want. Let it all out on them. After that, I need you to sit down on the benches and wait. Just wait. We'll be there before the cops get there. I'm going to hand the phone back to Harry and he's going to stay on the line the entire time. Okay?"

There was a quick squeak and then Bethany tossed the phone back to Harry. She stood and faced the group.

"Who's got a car here?" she demanded.

Bernice and Dean both raised their hands. Bethany looked a little surprised at Dean's unstated offer, but didn't question it.

"Betha, what the fuck's going on?" Iris asked, pale and grim.

"I don't really know. Adrianna's... been hurt, or maybe she's dead," Bethany said. "Now, we're all going to get in the cars and get our asses to campus. Right now."

As she grabbed her little, black backpack, Bethany caught their server's attention, "Ewok- we've got to book out now. Put it all on our tab and we'll swing by tomorrow to take care of it."

Ewok watched as the unusually quiet group got their things and began streaming out of the building. "No charge."

Sam threw some money down on the table and followed Dean out to the car. His brother looked as tired as Sam felt, but still alert despite the lack of sleep. They shared a here-we-go-again look, and threw open the back doors on the Impala.  
"Got room for three," Dean said.

"Thanks, so, so, sooo much," Iris said as she ducked past Sam and into the car. Morgan slipped in beside her and Bethany followed with a quick nod of thanks.

Sam and Dean slid into their seats and slammed the doors behind them. The other three people had already piled into a beat-up Corolla and sped off. The Impala roared to life and followed them out of the parking lot.

To Be Continued When We Bloody Well Feel Like It...


	2. Chapter 2

_Authors' Note: Chapter two is here and it brings plot. Ooooh- plot. Gotta loves me the plot. A Mary Sue with plot- now that's scary._

---Chapter 2---

After a few minutes and some good directions that broke the tense silence, the Impala turned into a dark parking lot and skidded to a stop near the blue lighted phone. Sam saw a huddled shaped on the benches just behind the emergency phone. The Corolla was already there and Bernice, Harry and Dwayne were running over to the benches. The car had barely stopped before the back doors were thrown open and the girls ran out to join their friends.

"So, what do you think?" Sam asked as he looked around. The parking lot was flanked by brick buildings on either side and a low stone wall ran along the back edge. Trees surrounded the area and created an odd aura that Sam associated with haunted houses. There was just something off about this campus. It was nothing like Sam's experience with college. Stamford had been filled with light, people and noise. This place was dark, silent and felt as though the life had been strangled out of it. Sam stuffed those thoughts to the back of his mind and forced his attention back to what his brother was saying.

Dean shrugged. "Could be anything. Could be a spirit, or a frat boy. Or this chick could have done something herself."

"So, what do we do?"

"The same thing we do every night, Sammy,"

"Trust you to make a 'Pinky and The Brain' reference when someone could be dead."

"References aside, we need to get moving. If we don't look like we belong then the cops will either kick us outta here or toss us in jail for being suspects. And I, for one, want to get a crack at the scene before the fuzz, for once," Dean said, grabbing a flashlight from under the seat. He also grabbed a shotgun, and Sam cuffed the side of his head. "Hey!"

"What do you think you're doing, man? If they see that, and we'll be suspects for sure," Sam rebuked harshly.

Dean grimaced and slid the shotgun back into place. "Fine. But you know we're going to need it eventually."

Armed with only their flashlight, Sam and Dean got out of the car and strode over the group. Iris and Morgan were sitting on either side of the shivering girl, presumably Danni, while the rest of them were arguing.

"Bethany, damnit- you can not go down there!"

"Fuck that. Someone should check on Adrianna."

"You can't disturb a crime scene though!"

"Thank you, Grissom. And, by the way, the crime scene is a stretch of dirt next to the fucking Mississippi where the campus pot heads go to toke up before class. I'm sure that sterile environment like that will just be screwed up to hell if I go check on her."

"Fuck you."

"Shove it up your ass, shitface."

As Dean and Sam reached them, Iris chimed in, "Damnit- calm down and shut up. Danni doesn't need you asshats fighting right now. Bethany- you are not going down there 'cause no one is willing to go with you right now, and you are _not _going alone.

Bethany opened her mouth to object, and Iris talked right over her.

"_No_, Betha. I don't care what you say, you're staying put until someone says they'll go with you. Everyone else- just chill. Bethany's right. Someone should go check on Adrianna but until someone goes with her- just leave her alone!"

The group grumbled a bit and Sam watched as Danni clutched desperately onto Iris, who murmured soothingly to her. He looked around at the parking lot empty but for the two cars. "Um," he hesitated, "Shouldn't the cops be here by now?"

Bethany looked blankly at him- seemingly surprised to see him, "This is St. Cloud, dude. There are only four cars on patrol right now while the rest of them are drinking coffee at McMillian's. We'll be lucky if they're here within the next two hours. And, as far as campus security goes, we won't see them until after the cops show."

Both Sam and Dean's jaws dropped. At least an hour, two at the max, to check out a scene before they had to deal with the police. They recovered from their shock quickly, though. There was work to be done.

"Well, if you really want to go down there," Dean said, "to check on your other friend... My brother and I could go with. Keep an eye out, you know."

"Sweet," Bethany walked hurriedly over to a break in the low stone wall at the back of the parking lot before anyone could object. Dean and Sam jogged to catch up with her and watched as she stepped over a low chain that held up a 'No Trespassing' sign without hesitation. There was a veritable forest that covered the steep hill from the edge of the parking lot down to the river. They couldn't even see the stairway until they jumped over the chain.

"My kind of girl," Dean muttered as they followed her down the crumbling steps. The darkness enveloped them as they cautiously picked their way down. Branches hung low and the stairwell was covered with leaves. Sam knew most people would avoid this place like the plague. It wasn't just the darkness or the decrepit steps. There was a weird feeling in the air that raised the hairs on the back of Sam's neck. Sam guessed that Dean was feeling the creepy vibes because he flicked on the flashlight.

"Turn that off!" a sharp voice demanded from below them. Sam saw Bethany's icy blue eyes glaring up at them before she stepped out of the shadows.

"It'll ruin your night vision and it's easier to see down at the bottom," she added in an apologetic tone. "Just hold onto the handrail and be careful of the second flight down. It's steeper than the other two."

The brothers exchanged another glance, this one saying "oookaayyy." Dean switched off the flashlight, and they crept forward. Safe in the dark, Sam grinned at the way this girl bossed his brother- the big bad hunter- around. Dean got that a lot and it was funny every time.

"Wipe that smirk off your face," Dean muttered irritably.

"What smirk?"

"I _know _you, Sam. Don't try to play innocent."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

A minute later, they reached the bottom of the stairs where Bethany waited for them. There was a smell like dead fish and rotting foliage, but underneath was the strong scent of blood and fear. Sam looked around. The cement stairs loomed to their right, and the orange-tinted mercury light from the parking lot filtered down through the trees. The Mississippi shushed along in its bed not five feet to the left of them. Bethany was right. The moonlight glinting off the river made it much easier to see. So easy, in fact, that Sam could clearly see the torn-up ground was cluttered with dragging footprints from the river to the area in front of them where Bethany stood staring at the ground.

Dean stepped up to stand next to her, and Sam followed. Between the dappled shadows from the trees and the uneven ground, it was hard to make out exactly what was part of the scenery and what had once been human. It wasn't the most gruesome sight he'd ever seen, but it was definitely in competition for the top ten. Bits of meat and slashes of blood painted the small clearing around a rather unimpressive circle of granite chunks. The way the girls had spoken of this place had made him picture a mid-western Stonehenge, but this was more like a hastily-made firepit. Underwhelming as that was, the gore more than made up for it.

Sam felt something thin and thread-like touch his face, and reached up to brush the cobweb from his face. Only it caught on his hand, and he looked. It was black. Not a spiderweb. Swallowing, he looked up into the branches above him and gave a startled cry, stepping backwards so quickly he almost tripped on a tree root.

"Sam!" Dean called, turning, which attracted Bethany's attention as well.

"Up there," Sam said shakily, pointing.

Suspended in the branches of the tree above the path, was a girl's head. Her tangled, matted hair knotted around the boughs, which dipped with the weight. She looked surprised. She wasn't the only one.

A rustling noise drew Sam's attention back to Bethany. She was rummaging through her backpack and pulled out a digital camera and a small, glass bottle.

"Cover your eyes, guys," she said quietly. They obeyed with little hesitation and heard a few clicks as she took some pictures. When she gave them the all clear, they opened their eyes and stared at her as she poured the contents of the bottle in a spiral onto the circle of stones. She was completely stone-faced and the blank expression on her face concerned Sam. He had seen people in shock before but this girl wasn't reacting normally. It wasn't until he looked past her lack of expression and saw how bad that her hands were shaking that he realized that she was desperately trying to keep in control.

"Dean," Sam got his brother's attention and whispered, "She's looking twitchy and we've seen everything we need to. Let's head back up."

Dean shook his head. He pulled the ghetto-rigged EMF detector out of his pocket and gestured for Sam to distract Bethany. Slowly, Sam walked over to her and reached over to touch her shoulder. She jumped at the initial contact and pulled away, but then she turned calmly towards him.

"Why don't we go sit down for a second," he suggested. Amazingly, she just shrugged and followed him over to the steps. They sat there in silence for an awkward moment.

He cleared his throat. "Um. So. How are you doing?"

"Well, considering my friend's head is in a tree and the rest of her is splattered every where else, I'm doing okay," she said, somewhat distantly. "I'll probably puke when we get near a garbage can, but it can wait until then." She paused for a second before muttering under her breath, "I'd be better with an EMF detector or a thermal cam."

Sam's head whipped around, "What?"

Bethany glanced at him sideways and said in an all-too-innocent voice, "Nothing. So, what's your brother doing?"

"Umm," Sam hesitated, "Nothing."

"Really?"

"Yup."

Before the situation could get anymore suspicious, Dean strutted towards them. Sam noted the introspective look on Dean's face and wondered at what, if anything, Dean had found.

"So, what do you think," Bethany inquired, "Was it scuba ninjas?"

The brothers stared blankly at her and asked in unison, "Scuba what?"

"Nevermind." Bethany said flatly. She sighed and stood up, "It was a joke. And a bad one at that. I'm sorry. I make inappropriate comments at the worst times. Can we go back up so I can make it to a garbage can in time?"

- - -

"Damn, that second flight was a bitch," Dean muttered as he caught his breath, once they had ascended the stairs and made it into the parking lot.

Harry stormed over to Bethany yelling, "You stupid cunt! What the hell were you doing down there? We saw the flashes from your camera. What were you thinking? Did you take some pictures to post on your LJ?"

Dean and Sam both stared at the furry idiot, and Dean stepped forward as if to say something. Before his foot hit the ground, Bethany's fist slammed forward and nailed Harry square on the jaw. He staggered back and doubled over. He clutched at his face, emitting a piggish squeal.

"I took some pictures because something down there was off and I couldn't figure it out, you jackass. I can look at the pictures later when I've got a clear head, and if you think I'd _ever _do that... " Bethany's voice drifted off. She recovered quickly. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Betha, where are you - " Iris trailed off, eyes wide as Harry stood straight and made to follow Bethany.

This time, Dean did step up. "Hey, pal, why don't you just back the hell off and give the lady some breathing room."

Sam saw Bethany pass around a corner, and soon thereafter faint gut-wrenching sounds could be heard.

"Hey, man, you stay the fuck out of this. It's none of your business," Harry snarled in Dean's face. "Why are you even here?"

"We're just helping out, is all. Why don't you stop pickin' fights and go talk to your girlfriend?" Dean replied levelly, not even flinching.

Iris stood and detached herself from Danielle's clinging hands. Her footfalls echoed in the silence as she approached.

"Harry, please. Danni needs you now," she said quietly but firmly. She tugged on the sleeve of his coat. "Come on. They're nice guys, they're just trying to help."

Harry sneered, but turned away. He gave Dean one last glare before he headed back toward the rest of the tearful group huddled nervously around Danielle. Iris watched him go with an unhappy frown on her tense face. She turned back to Dean and Sam and forced a smile.

"I just want to thank you two. I know this situation is fucked up beyond belief. You didn't have to give us a ride, and you sure as hell didn't have to go with Betha down there," she said, and let her face fall. She swallowed and pinned them with an earnest, worried gaze. "Is she... Is Adrianna really..."

"I'm sorry," Sam said, knowing it was horribly inadequate and knowing there was nothing else to be said.

Iris's lips trembled and she dropped her eyes. Her voice was choked when she said, "I... see. How bad was it?"

"Pretty bad," Dean admitted reluctantly. "You don't wanna go down there."

Iris shook her head. "No. No, I don't. Christ. I've never had a friend die before. Fuck, it sounds weird to even say that. She's dead. Holy fuck."

She turned away jerkily. Her shoulders shook, and Sam felt like he should be doing something. He looked to Dean, who had a mildly panicked look on his face. They were used to situations where the bodies were dismembered or grotesque. What they weren't used to was trying to console those left intact.

They were saved from awkward, ineffectual attempts at comfort by Bethany's return. She came back around the corner and saw Iris standing with them. She pursed her lips and walked up to Iris, sweeping her into a tight hug. Iris finally started crying in earnest against the taller girl's shoulder. A few moments later, Iris stepped back. Wiping her tears away, she whispered a quick thanks and stared up at Bethany.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

Bethany sighed and closed her eyes for a second before answering. "We call the cops to remind them of our situation, and then we wait until they tell us to go home. After that, we'll get cleaned up, drink ourselves stupid and pass out. All other decisions can wait until tomorrow."

"That's good advice," Dean said kindly. "And I think Sam and I are going to call it a night, too. Right, Sam?"

Sam blinked, and then nodded. "Uh, yeah. We should find a hotel."

Dean took out a pen and a scrap of paper from his coat pocket. Scribbling quickly, he said, "If you girls need anything else, you know. Moral support or something. We'll be in town a while, so feel free to call my cell."

Bethany took the paper with an odd look on her face. "Er. Okay."

Iris gave them another watery smile. "Thanks. For everything. I'm sorry you had to see all this."

"Yeah, well. It's not the first time we've played good Samaritans," Sam told her consolingly. "Just take care of yourselves."

"And if you could not mention us to the cops..." Dean added suggestively.

The girls both looked surprised. Iris turned to look at Bethany.

"Umm. I guess. What would I tell them, anyway? 'Yeah, some guys I just met during bar rush at Ghetto Perkins and I went down and tampered with the evidence before you got here, hope you don't mind,'" Bethany said, though she was watching them closely now.

"'Preciate it," Dean replied, not answering any of the questions in her eyes.

Sam and Dean turned and headed back to the Impala. Once inside and driving, the silence dragged tensely for a moment.

"Whaddaya think?" Sam asked.

"I don't know what kind of frat boy dismembers and decapitates his potential date-rape victims, so I say we stick around," Dean said, clenching his jaw as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"My thoughts exactly. We should try to talk to that Danielle chick, too. Maybe she saw something," Sam added.

"You would think," he agreed, but shook his head. "I don't know. Something doesn't feel right about those kids. I mean, come on, they were being assholes to each other. What kind of friends act like that?"  
"You're right, there," Sam said with a sarcastic smile. "Reminds me of the stuff in college I _don't _miss."


End file.
